


A Tower Stands Alone

by Wanderbird



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: But mostly fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genderfluid Wild (Linked Universe), Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Hyrule, Stargazing, in Wild's Hyrule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderbird/pseuds/Wanderbird
Summary: This time, the portal deposits them in a desert none of the Links recognize, near what looks to be a map tower from Wild's Hyrule. Between mundanities of travel and deadly patches of excitement, the nine heroes do the only thing they can do: they carry on. And when it comes down to it, maybe none of them are as alone as they think they are.Contains fluff! Fighting! Companionship! Lots and lots of feelings, not all of which are expressed out loud! All of the LU Links appear, but the focus is on Wild, Sky, and Hyrule (mostly).
Relationships: Hyrule & Wild (Linked Universe), Sky & Wild (Linked Universe)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 114





	A Tower Stands Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Welp I wrote this in nine hours straight of adhd hyperfocus, consuming all of my other plans for the afternoon/evening. I looked up and it was one in the morning! Anyway, it kinda turned into a sort of character study/set of character studies? And I like it, and it only sounds moderately like I swallowed a thesaurus whole, so here we are. Rip me, hope you all enjoy <3
> 
> Content warnings: Some not-super-graphic violence, dubious concussion care and... that's pretty much it!

“That’s weird.” Wild frowned. They tapped at their slate once, twice, but the map stayed obstinately empty. “That’s definitely a map tower over there, and my slate definitely has signal, but it doesn’t seem to know where we are.” If they zoomed out, they could see the map of Hyrule, odd and glitchier than normal, with a notice of some kind in the ancient Sheikah language flashing up in one corner. But the arrow that normally showed their location was nowhere to be seen.

The latest portal had deposited the nine of them on the edge of a desert, where all this endless sand faded off into mountains. This wasn’t the Gerudo highlands; or not the part Wild was used to. The mountains were too… pointy, really, for that.

There was a map tower, though, in the distance, standing alone on a plateau.

Wild frowned. Had they really just never been here before?  
In the meantime, a few more touches to the screen of their slate had Wild retrieving a different clothing set from their stash. This looked like there would be a lot of climbing. “It looks like nothing’s right about to jump out and attack us,” Wild told the group at large. “So if you want to avoid heat stroke, this seems like a great time to put on some cooler clothing.” For themself, Wild settled on a compromise: Sand boots for now, because this was an awful lot of sand. Over that, they slipped off their tunic in exchange for the Gerudo Voe armor, tied up their hair with the matching topaz- and sapphire-studded band, and slipped their climbing gloves and bandana into a pocket where they would both be ready to hand. They laughed a little see Time grumbling as he stripped off his outer layer of plate armor, but at least the old man seemed to have some help, in the form of… Sky?  
Wild raised one dubious eyebrow. “Sky, are you… still gonna wear that?”

Bird boy glanced back at them with a surprised smile. “Yes, actually!” He didn’t seem to mind the heat—which was patently absurd, between that thick padded gambeson, the chainmail, and his beloved white-and-blue cloak-slash-glider. “My earrings are enchanted to shed excessive heat,” Sky added, almost sheepishly. “Not just fire. I’ll be fine.”  
“If you say so.” Wild tightened their own ponytail with a brisk tug. “Have the rest of you got anything that’ll work?”

Legend surely had some trinket or other with heat resistance, and Hyrule also seemed to have scrounged something up. Weirdly, the traveler managed to keep just about every inch of skin covered, too, from knuckles to collarbones in worn, loose linen until it met with those familiar brown gloves. He was still meticulously tucking trouser cuffs into his boots, in fact. Wind was already done, having cheerfully shucked off extra layers until he stood in nothing but his beloved lobster shirt and usual orange pants. The kid looked altogether relieved to be free of the extra bulk. Warriors, also muttering annoyed imprecations at his plate armor, had pulled a red tunic from his bag nearly _identical_ to the one the Old Man was slipping over his undershirt.  
Huh.  
“What about you two?” Wild prompted. Four and Twilight stood side by side, equally immobile.  
Twilight stared for a moment, then sighed. “I haven’t got anything of my own. Can I just borrow those earrings from you again?”  
“I’ll be fine!” Four protested, but they were already swaying on their feet.  
Wild tried to keep from rolling their eyes. “You will _not_ be fine. You’ll just come down with heat stroke and be of no use to anyone. I know, I’ve done it myself.” It didn’t take long to pull up the sapphire earrings from their slate. Wolfie had borrowed them often enough, so they were certainly not surprised to learn that Twilight needed the help too. “Knock yourself out, rancher.” Wild pressed the earrings into the other’s hands with a smirk. “Just don’t get the beads tangled in fur this time, yeah?”  
Now what did they have that Four could use…

They still had the Gerudo Vai outfit, of course. Though since Wild wasn’t a member of the tribe, they hadn’t been able to buy the enchanted, armored version, so it wouldn’t be terribly protective otherwise. Also it was meant for a woman, of course. As far as they knew, Four wasn’t one. And what would the others say? The armored Gerudo pants were still unclaimed-- but those probably wouldn’t fit Four very well, easily the smallest of the group.  
Wait a minute—Wild blinked. They were being dumb. With nimble fingers, they unfastened the ponytail from their head and passed the band to Four. “Here,” they said. “It’s magic. Put your hair up with it and it’ll keep you cool—and don’t worry, I have other pieces that fit me and do the same thing. I should probably wear my climbing bandana for now anyway, looking at those cliffs.”

“What’s so interesting about the cliffs?” Time prompted. He was buckling armor back on now, over the top of his bright red tunic.  
“Y’see that tower?” Wild pointed at the structure rising in the distance. “It’s a map tower. If I can get to the top of it, I should be able to add this region to my map on my Sheikah Slate, and teleport to it later.” It was a moment’s work to tie the climber’s bandana over their head. “I’ve never been here before, as far as I know, so it’d be nice to be able to come back.”  
“Right.” The old man tilted his head up at the sky. “Besides, I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do here, in an endless, empty expanse of sand.”  
“You’d be surprised.” Sky seemed completely at ease, somehow, peering into the distance where sand dunes rose and fell. “The Sand Sea in my time was full of life, if you knew where to look, though at first glance it held mostly just the dead.” He spread his arms in a slow, leisurely stretch. “If everyone’s ready, I suppose we might as well get moving.”

And so they did.  
It wasn’t too long a trek to the cliffs before them, which was just as well. Instead, it was getting up them that was tricky.

* * *

It’s hard to climb in plate armor.  
Wild knew this, intellectually. It hadn’t been a problem for them, because they’d always been happy for the excuse not to wear the stuff. Time seemed to be managing alright, using his hookshot to attach himself to the occasional bit of greenery on the cliffside, but it was still slow going, given that a good seven out of nine Links were not used to clambering up mountainsides. Wild waited for them anyway. The company was… nice.

“If it weren’t for that map tower and the lack of enemies, we could almost be in my world.” Hyrule said softly. The traveler laid back against the stones by Wild’s side, arms tucked nearly behind his head. Their head? Wild wasn’t sure what gender Hyrule considered themselves, and those clothes didn’t hint much in any direction. Either way, the traveler had proved almost as skilled at climbing as they were, though their hands were all scraped up by the time they reached the top. Wild was impressed.  
“Really?” Wild let the surprise seep into their voice. “I thought the rest of your Hyrules were all a little more… urban, I suppose, than mine. Or an ocean, in our little sailor's case.”  
“Not mine.” Hyrule looked out at the desert with a faint look of unease. “Mine was… huge, really, and empty. Except for the monsters, of course. There were some towns, but they were always small and isolated, and anything resembling a city or a castle was long since abandoned. Corrupted. I don’t know. Other than that—there were some caves, I guess, and hidden buildings with people. Never more than five inhabitants at a time, and most of them were desperate to sell me some supplies so they could buy what they needed next time they made it to a town.” A shrug. “I’ve crossed some deserts too in my time, that's all.”

“There are still some enemies around, I’m sure.” Wild remarked. “They’re just… spread out, usually, in my world, especially now that Calamity Ganon isn't around to resurrect them every week. It’s not too surprising we haven’t run into any yet. The Staal will come as soon as night falls.”  
“Mm.” The traveler gave a little hum of acknowledgement. “It feels good to see—I don’t know,” Hyrule’s voice fell to an awkward mumble. “It’s nice to see what my world could be like, eventually, as it recovers. If I don’t screw it up too bad. I’m… I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Wild smiled, ever so slightly. There was something warm in their chest when they heard those words, and that feeling was something to cherish. “Tell you a secret?” they answered, and their voice was quiet to match. “I’m glad too.”

* * *

The rest of the team made it up the cliff without incident. Eventually. It was getting toward dusk, though, so Wild set an uncomfortably quick pace across the highlands toward the map tower. “If we can get up there, we’ll be safe for the night, and can leave if anything happens,” they insisted. The base of it looked to be guarded, and for Wild alone, it might have posed a problem—but with nine Links, even the pair of Hinox and crowd of smaller critters milling about should be manageable.

Wild explained the strategy. “The thing about Hinoxes is that they’re _big,_ okay? It’s hard to do much else if they’re lumbering around, swinging every which way. Which is kinda nice in this case, because if you’re in range of a Hinox, there isn’t much else that’ll be willing to get close to _you._ Just don’t let them grab you, and don’t let them sit on you. The big lugs won’t stumble much from getting hit with a sword, since all you can really do is stab at their ankles, but if we have a couple of us stay out of the way and be archers, we can keep them both too staggered to attack. Shoot’em right in the eye, and it’ll hurt enough for them to actually react. _That’s_ when you want to be close.”  
Their audience gave various nods and acknowledging mumbles. Good.  
“The other things, the Lizalfos are just a normal fight,” Wild shrugged. “Looks like only a couple of them have bows, so those should be the first priority, so we can keep our own arrows focused on the big guys. They look like the ones from my world—they’ll jump around a lot, very mobile, and if they don’t have a weapon, they can still spit at you. Luckily all but one are green, not yellow. Get the yellow one first, but get out of range if it looks like it’s charging something up, since it can light up everything within fifteen feet or so with lightning.” At Hyrule’s look of alarm, they rushed to reassure the others. “It won’t kill you in one hit or anything, it just hurts, yeah? And you’ll drop whatever you’re holding, odds are. Who wants to shoot?”

Working out the specifics took some discussion. On the one hand, Wild was easily the best archer of the group, but on the other, they were the one who actually knew what they were fighting—they ended up on archery duty anyway. They could always jump in as needed. Sky, unusually, offered to shoot the other Hinox—  
“I’m good at trick shots,” he argued. “Twilight, I know you or the veteran usually handle archery, but it’s precision we need here, not speed.”  
“I can do precision!” Legend protested, rather halfheartedly. “Besides, you’re the one with the Master Sword. You’ll have an easier time cutting through these things than the rest of us, especially if they’re infected.”  
“You both have a point.” Time cut in, and the discussion paused in its tracks. “Legend, you can be backup archer, in case either of the others need to join the melee. Sky, when your Hinox is down, or if your sword is needed on the ground, why don’t you come join the rest of us? The veteran can take your place if we still need another archer by then.”  
That seemed enough of a compromise for everyone.

Their strategy decided, the three archers hunkered down behind some rocks on a ledge above the tower base where the monsters had camped.  
The others took the opportunity for surprise.  
Wind and Four were the first to engage. Sneakier than the rest, they crept into the camp unseen as night fell, and managed to take out two of the Lizalfos before they were noticed at all.

Chaos ensued.

By mutual agreement, it was Twilight and Time who focused on the pair of Hinox. They had better armor, after all, and Twilight had fought the things before, albeit in a different shape. It was a good thing the big creatures were so slow, though, because it took precious seconds for the two Links to weave their way through the mess to their targets. Twilight’s sword carved a great slash through the thing’s belly as it got to its feet, and blood—red—dripped from the wound.  
Not infected.  
Wild breathed relief as they loosed their first arrow, and took a moment to survey the battlefield.

The yellow Lizalfos, unfortunately, had still been awake. It was in the middle of the fray, but Wind and the Captain seemed to have it cornered. After a moment, one of Legend’s arrows thudded into its side.  
“Good shot,” Wild murmured. They concentrated on their next shot themself, then, relaxing as they pulled into a familiar stance. Feet shoulder length apart, toes pointed at the target, their hand resting where cheekbone met their ear—this pose was muscle memory from before the Calamity ever struck. They loosed the arrow, and the Hinox staggered to the ground. Twilight ripped into it in an instant.

“ _Shit.”_ That was Legend, on his post watching the rest of the fight. “The archers—they’ve spotted us. I think we’re the next target.”

Wild glanced down.  
That was… definitely not reassuring. One of the archers was staring up at them with beady eyes, and there was something strange about the arrow it nocked to the string. Four was on the ground beside its post, staving off the opposition with an arrow sticking out of one shoulder. Hyrule had made it up to the other one, and knocked it off its platform with a well timed shield bash, but that arrow…  
It wasn’t until it was in the air that Wild realized.

“Bomb!”

Wild dropped their bow entirely in the name of speed. Legend must have understood, because he launched himself sideways, but Sky’s reactions weren’t quite as fast. That, or he hadn’t understood the one-word warning, and Wild couldn’t blame him. They lunged.  
It felt like the world was in slow motion.  
They rammed into Sky, first, wrapping their arms automatically to cover of much of their teammate as they could. As the two of them skidded to the ground, the bomb arrow hit—and the world turned to brightness and flame.

* * *

Twilight was there when they came to.  
Not in his furry form, with its wet nose and soft fur and big, sad eyes. He was human, this time, and his face was ringed with worry.

“…ow…” Wild groaned. The world still spun when they opened their eyes, but they pushed themself up anyway. Something beneath them was weirdly yielding, with what felt like chain mail under cloth—Sky! Wild almost fell back down when they realized, before scrambling off in a heap. “Sky! Are you—are you alright? I’m so sorry—”  
The other hero lifted his head off the rocks with a bemused expression. Sky sat up in a rather more dignified fashion than Wild had, and rubbed his dirt-streaked cheeks. “I’ll live.” Those hands shook, just a bit, when Wild peered too close. Then Sky’s eyes focused on something behind them, and widened in alarm. “We’re still fighting,” Sky breathed.  
Wild blinked. Then the words made to their brain, and they whirled around—Twilight stopped them, two firm hands on their shoulders. Legend had drawn his sword, maybe ten feet away, and juggled two Lizalfos with a crazed grin.

Twilight glared. “Yes, we are. But _you two_ are staying out of the fray until someone can check you for concussions.”  
Wild wasn’t sure which of them protested. “But—"  
“You can shoot, if you’re seeing clearly enough to do so,” the rancher relented. “I trust you both to know whether you’re likely to hit a friend on accident. But if your sense of balance is screwed, you’ll both be more danger than asset up close.” He gave a worried smile, brief and sparkling. “I’m glad to see you’re both alive. And the enemy archers have both been taken care of, so you won’t need to worry about that.”

That was a relief.

Sky seemed to be hesitating over something, but after a few seconds, he came to a decision. He pulled the Master Sword from its sheath. “Here,” he offered. “If I’m not going to do anything up close this fight— I know she cuts through monsters better than just about anything else.”  
Twilight blinked surprise, but took it, and the sword glowed faintly in his hand. “I appreciate it. And just in case—” he passed his own sword back to Sky in turn. “So you’re not unarmed.” Sky nodded his thanks. After a tense moment, Twilight let out a breath and turned around, joining Legend with his opponents on the way back down. 

It was almost peaceful. They and Sky sprawled seated at the top of a ledge, the sounds of battle ringing all around—and did nothing. Not a single foe got through their two protectors. The only tension was the gnawing helplessness in Wild’s gut, while their friends fought for their lives around them. It was fortunate the Staalfos had all come up below, and not here on the ridge, because if Wild was honest with themself, their mentor was right. They’d be more a danger than an asset with a sword in their current state, at least in a fight like this with _allies_ they had to watch out for. After a minute or so, their vision started to settle, which was something. They flexed their hands anxiously in the dirt.  
“I can shoot, I think,” Sky murmured after a while. “Where—oh, there it is.” The other hero inched a few feet away to grasp his bow, slightly singed but otherwise none the worse for wear. Even the string had somehow escaped destruction in the blast.

Wild sighed. As much as they hated sitting still like this, their hands were still too shaky to aim well. Again, if they were alone—but they weren’t, and it wouldn’t do to shoot a friend by accident. Still, they perched themself beside Sky on the edge where they could watch the action while the other got his equipment in order.

One of the Hinoxes was dead.  
Time and Warriors were tag-teaming the remaining one, with the older hero on bow somewhere to the side of the fighting. There were only eight or so Lizalfos left down there, and four Staals. Judging by the bones scattered about, either Twilight had told them or the others had figured out how to keep them from coming back without issue, which certainly soothed Wild’s worries somewhat. Less reassuring as the sight of Four and Wind fighting back-to-back against the rest of the horde. They were clearly tiring—how could they not be? But Hyrule, at least, seemed alright. The traveler had parked themself up on one of the platforms, and occupied four enemies with their magic rod in one hand and their sword keeping the Lizalfos off the ladder in the other. One of them was creeping up from behind, though, and gradually making progress toward the platform.

And then a violet-fletched arrow plunged into the back of its neck.  
“Got you.” Sky sounded quite satisfied with himself as he nocked another arrow. His target let out a grunt loud enough to catch Hyrule’s attention as it fell, and Wild relaxed. Good. An attack from behind wouldn’t come as a surprise, at least. The next two shots punched holes right through the skulls of a couple Staal, and the third felled a Lizalfos that had started to approach the Time in one shot.

Wild already knew Sky could shoot, but this—sure, he took his time lining up the shots. Several of the team could beat him for speed, and still be pretty accurate, but—well, none of them could take a foe from full health to dead in one shot, much less do so reliably. That was damned impressive. Even if some if it probably was the bow itself, or the arrows, and not that astonishing pin-point aim. The old man’s eyes jerked up when the Lizalfos fell over, and there was relief in his expression when he found the two of them on their ridge.  
Wild could empathize.

Three seconds later, the Hinox collapsed and turned to smoke on the Captain’s blade.  
After that, they were down to mopping up.

* * *

“Don’t feel bad,” Warriors plopped himself down in front of them. “No plan survives first contact with the enemy. That went pretty smoothly, all things considered!”  
Wild scowled. They didn’t reply, though, because Hyrule held their head by the temples in hands that tingled like the most severe case of pins and needles Wild had ever had. They were under strict instructions not to talk while the traveler did… something.

“Mm… there.” Hyrule let go, finally. “That’s about as good as I can get it. You should be alright to fight if you have to, but try not to strain yourself for the next couple days. Especially mentally. I’m glad you didn’t try a potion—flash-healing a concussion like that never works right. It’ll get you on your feet, of course, but the other symptoms don’t go away for years once you do that.” The traveler stood up, brushing dust from their clothes. “I’ll need to take another look in two days, if you want it to go away fast. At that point the actual brain damage should be more-or-less healed, or at least in the right configuration, which means I’ll be able to flash-heal the other elements without complications. Got it?”  
“Got it.” They sighed. Sky had apparently been concussed too, and had already received much the same instructions. “Have I got your permission to climb the map tower, or is that too dangerous?” Wild couldn’t keep the sour note from their voice, and regretted it when Hyrule flinched.  
“I’m not about to stop you. Just don’t hit your head.”

Wild looked away guiltily. “I won’t, even if I do fall,” they hesitated. “Sorry, ‘Rule. I didn’t mean to—I know you’re just taking care of me. Us.” Wild didn’t want to hear what the healer might say about that, so they clambered to their feet instead. “I appreciate it, okay? I’m just pissy about the injury.”

The traveler nodded mutely.

Not good enough. Something was clearly still bothering them. But a deeply awful headache was setting in, and Wild really did want to climb the tower while they could, and get the whole group of them somewhere safer to recover if possible. “I’ll… see you, I guess. In a few minutes,” they stammered. “The tower’s lit up all down its center, I’ll be fine. And then we can get out of here, alright?” They turned away. In a spout of reckless irritation, Wild dove off the edge of the ridge instead of walking down, and their paraglider took them all the way to the base of the tower. Besides, someone probably would have come up with some protective objection if they’d stuck around, and Wild was already sick of being _protected._ They stood for a few seconds to catch their breath after landing, forehead pressed to the wicker tower. Ugh.

 _This is a good thing,_ Wild tried to remind themself. _I have people who care whether I live or die._ But it was so _strange_ , having to account for them in their calculations, having to hold themself back for their benefit, to act as if, as if—they cut themself off. When it was just themself and Wolfie, or themself alone, things had been different. Wolfie couldn’t talk. Everyone else either didn’t know they were the hero, and just saw some weird, mostly-mute stranger or—or practically knew more about them than they did. _Here’s a list of requests and grievances, Link, and you’d better fix it all or you’re still a failure. Repair the Divine Beasts, kill the Calamity, save the Princess. Find some magic status quo power to rebuild the kingdom as it used to be._ And they had, except for that last bit. The kingdom was still in ruins. Countless thousands of people were still dead from their failure. What in Nayru’s name was Wild supposed to do about any of that? They couldn’t even remember it!  
 _This kingdom ate up everything I used to be._

“Are you alright?”  
Wild snarled, whirling around to face the voice—and then faltered.  
Sky didn’t look pitying, just… concerned. And it was only Sky; the others seemed to be setting up camp on the ridge, and Hyrule had disappeared as they always did after a battle. He held up his hands. “I don’t mean to intrude. I told the others to leave you be; Twilight was especially concerned. But if you want company…” he trailed off. One shoulder rose in a halfhearted shrug. “I’m happy to listen. I’d offer to talk to keep your mind off things too, except by all accounts, I’m terrible at that.”

On the one hand, Wild positively _ached_ for solitude, or at least for not having to care what others thought of them. On the other… _my thoughts are getting all mixed up._ They frowned. _I don’t know that bird-brain here would get it, I mean I don’t think they’ve ever_ been _alone. But Hyrule…_ Hyrule might understand, but Hyrule was also the one in charge of making sure they didn’t die. And was nowhere to be seen.  
“Why not?” the words sounded brusque and tired, even to Wild. They did not take them back. “Come on up if you want to follow me. I just want to climb so I can stop thinking for a bit.”

They climbed.  
There was blessed silence in their head while they did, pushing themself until they almost fell from the tower. At last Wild arrived, panting and sweaty, at the top. Sky was not too far behind, and just as tired, so the two of them laid panting on the floor.

“…I guess I’m just not used to this,” Wild spoke into the silence. The stars twinkled comfortingly overhead, unobscured once more by malice or smoke. As promised, the other hero said nothing. “This, this—” they stopped. After a long moment, they finally managed to compose a sentence. “You guys don’t even _know_ what I’ve done, except for maybe Twilight. You don’t know how much of my job I fucked up beyond repair, you don’t have this, this list of grievances behind every word. ‘Why didn’t you save _my_ family? Why didn’t you stay in Fort Hateno and defend it forever? Why did everyone have to—'” Wild choked themself off, and a period of quiet followed. But eventually they found the words and continued, their voice just barely louder than a whisper. “You guys actually _care_. You know who I am, who I’m suppose to be, but you still—Hylia, Sky, my life isn’t _like this_! Even my friends, it’s always one or the other.” Wild swallowed. “Either I’m the Hero who needs to fix everything, who lives and breathes for Hyrule and doesn't get their own life until the world is back to how it was, or I’m… a stranger of another kind. I don’t know.”

They exhaled, and watched the plume of their breath dissolve into night.

“Everyone I knew before sees someone I’ve never met.” Wild didn’t explain what they meant by _before._ They hadn’t actually talked to the group about the Calamity, yet, and didn’t have any intention of doing so. Maybe Sky thought they meant before the memory loss. Either way, he didn’t try to speak, so Wild didn’t particularly care. “But nobody I’ve first met _after_ waking up can recognize the scraps of what I was before.”  
Their friends just… couldn’t. It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know that constant terror of war, the desperate, all-encompassing drive to throw themselves into an impossible fight. They weren’t haunted every day by the specters of everyone they’d failed, even before those hundred years had passed. Even though Wild could barely recognize the stranger in their photograms walking around with their face, some pieces of that stranger seemed… inevitable.  
“And I’m used to that,” Wild reminded themself rather nervously. “It’s okay. It’s not their fault. But now—you guys actually _understand_ it _._ You’re some strange in-between, and constantly at hand, and I don’t know _how—”_ they rubbed at their face with fingers that grew chill in the night air. “You don’t know who I was, but you can recognize the pieces, I guess. You don’t see me as infallible, or as this utter failure of a Hero who I never met. That’s better than I can do. _I_ don’t even know who I am.” Wild couldn’t help the ugly laugh that escaped when they admitted it.  
“Looks like the Calamity destroyed me after all.”

The stars twinkled overhead, placidly undisturbed by any horrible realizations had in the world below.

After a long moment, words pierced the darkness one more time, and Wild tensed in anticipation. Anticipation of _what,_ they weren't sure, but it was bound to be bad news.

“I couldn’t tell anyone about my journey, did you know that?” Sky’s voice was soft. When Wild glanced over, the other was still stretched out on his back, gaze fixed upward and filled with quiet rage. “No-one knew what was going on. The Headmaster _thought_ he did, but he didn’t want to hear about it—not what _I_ was going through, just whether I’d found and rescued his daughter yet. But nobody else on Skyloft even knew I’d left.” A pause. “I was gone for _weeks,_ Wild. _Nobody_ on Skyloft noticed _._ ” He paused, closing his eyes, and when he let out a breath, his face was once more serene. “And the Headmaster forbid me from telling them, so I was alone, except for Fi. And Groose, later, who followed me down—Groose is a friend now, but when this started, he was _such_ a bully. I think I hated him,” Sky added reflectively. It was incredibly weird trying to picture the easygoing Sky as _hating_ anyone. He took another slow, deep breath. “I met people along the way, of course,” he added. “Some of them I quite liked. But other than Groose and a couple of Goron archaeologists, _every single person_ I met there wanted something of me. Even Fi, in her way—she saw me as her Master, the Hero, and if I didn’t fulfill her mission there would be hell to pay.”

Silence.

“When it was done, I went back to Skyloft. I went back to what was left of it, in any case.” It was soothing, listening to Sky speak in that calm, meditative tone of voice. Like he was telling a story that happened to someone else entirely. “And nobody there noticed what I’d become.” He scoffed, that unfamiliar hint of rage slipping back into his words. “ ‘Don’t worry, that’s just Link,’ they said. ‘Slowest in the class, never practices, he’ll scrape by on Zelda’s favoritism like he always does.’ I heard them talking in the square.” Wild heard the sounds of breath, slow and regular as the sea, before Sky spoke again.  
“Some of Groose’s old buddies played a nasty prank, once, after the whole mess was done. They noticed how careful I was to keep a sword and shield on me at all times, and so they stole the training blade I’d _begged_ for once I had to put Fi back. Then they watched me panic. ‘Such a foolish child’, the onlookers laughed. ‘He doesn’t need to defend himself here, can’t he see he has no reason to fear?’. For them, I suppose it was true." Sky shrugged. "And why would they believe me about my questing anyway? I tried to tell them. But it was all over by then, for the most part. They didn’t notice how I came to the market every few days buying bottles full of health potions with blood beneath my fingernails, or the scars from all those wounds I flash-healed with potions because I didn't have time for recovery. If I got hit by lightning, they just _assumed_ the burns were because I was an idiot and flew into the storm.” It was surreal, hearing Sky actually get _angry._ The tension was in his voice now, too, and in fists clenched against the stone-cold floor. “Out of _everyone_ who lived in Skyloft, only Zelda and later Groose believed me.” The rage faded, then, or was at least smoothed from Sky’s demeanor with the same efficiency as one of Zelda’s mechanisms going about its tasks.

“Wild… I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to remember _nothing._ I have never stood in your place in some ways, and I am grateful for that. I know your life has not been an easy one.” A slight smile snuck in, and Wild could hear it in the other’s voice when he continued.  
“But I can certainly agree on two of your points: Being surrounded by people who know what I am and yet want nothing painful or impossible from me is _deeply unfamiliar._ And second—I have _no idea_ what I’m doing.”

Wild barked out a surprised laugh. One thing led to another, and before they could stop it, their whole body shook with the force of their frantic giggles. Sky’s grin, too, burgeoned into laughter. There were tears on Wild’s face—but in the hysteria of shared cluelessness, they couldn’t bring themself to care.

* * *

Twilight was getting ready to tear his hair out by the time the last of the group finally returned.

Hyrule had actually been fairly prompt for once, coming back grubby but completely free of blood, wearing relatively fresh clothes that smelled only faintly of ash and lye this time. It was Wild and Sky, the two newly-concussed members of the party, who were taking forever. At least no-one had screamed and fallen off the tower. And Wild probably hadn’t teleported, or he would have seen the glowing.  
Or at least, that’s what Twilight told himself. _They’re adults. More or less. Honestly, those two can take care of themselves perfectly well on their own. They won’t get kidnapped, or imprisoned, or hung up as a banner on some Bokoblin’s spear, or—_ he tried to cut off the loop of anxiety before it got any further. Sky and Wild would be _fine_ without him. They were probably just having a good time, or a heart-to-heart or something!  
Well. Not if Wild was as irritable as they looked, but the rest still held. He hoped.

“Hey. Pup.” That Time, his voice low and rough so as not to wake the others. The old man jerked his chin toward the tower. “Your last couple chicks are coming home.”

The tower had lit up when Wild activated it almost an hour ago, and Twilight had assumed they’d come back then—but no. He peered out into the darkness anyway.

Finally!  
There they were. Sky and Wild were joking around, by the looks of it, as they weaved their way back to camp with the slightly off-kilter stroll of people nursing minor brain injuries. Sky said something and Wild actually _giggled,_ one hand to their mouth and everything.  
Twilight felt overcome by relief.  
 _They’re fine. See?  
_ He still waited until the pair got all the way back and settled in their bedrolls before he relaxed. Maybe Sky had been right; Wild did look better. Exhausted, and like he’d been crying for a while, but—better.

Twilight was so absorbed in watching that he didn’t notice Time until the older hero was looming over him. He was always so quiet outside his armor, and smelled of moss and woodlands and horses and hay. It was a comforting combination. The Hero’s Shade hadn’t smelled of horses, or of hay. It had the moss and forest parts down, but anything else had long been overpowered by bones and sharp decay.  
“Pup.”  
Twilight jumped.  
Time set one warm hand on his shoulder, and it felt wonderfully reassuring. “You should sleep,” there was a hint of humor in his voice. “They’ll be alright without you, and your watch has been over for hours.”

Twilight watched for a few seconds longer, and then heaved out a great sigh. Everyone was as safe as they could get, asleep beneath the stars. “I guess they will,” he murmured back. “Thank you for—thanks.” _For not asking too many questions._ Stiff-fingered, he finally lurched over to his bedroll and burrowed inside. The desert night was cold.  
By the time Time switched out for third watch, he was asleep.


End file.
